


Another New World

by D20Owlbear



Series: Another New World [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU of an AU really, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Another New World at the Middle of the World, Crowley is both a guardian of Eden and the Serpent of Eden, Crowley is very confused about everything to be honest, Explorer!Aziraphale, Garden of Eden, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Including but not limited to talking, Jomens kinda, M/M, Naga, Naga!Crowley, Old School Adventuring, Rated T for Crowley doing some weird things with his tongue, Rediscovery, Snake Cuddles, Tarzan meets Jane feel, Touch-Starved Aziraphale (Good Omens), UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and Aziraphale is touch starved, enemy species to friends to lovers or something, he's just a lonely baby, resolved emotional tension, snuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Aziraphale is an explorer who searches the world for new civilizations and untouched ruins, and he knows in his heart that if anyone can find the fabled Garden of Eden, it'll be him. After a disastrous shipwreck a few years back, he's desperate to prove himself once more as an adventurer of renown.But there are things that live in the Garden and in the wilds of the desert around it. Perhaps. Aziraphale isn't sure he believes in them, but he thinks he's ready to find them nonetheless.There were creatures, some said, that lived in these deserts, thrived in them even. Aziraphale didn't normally pay much heed to tall tales, but the mirages of this place had put him on edge for days. He was hearing things just out of sight, seeing things that couldn't possibly exist in the distance, and now he saw what he had been searching for. Eden.The famed Garden of God, the paradise lost, the valley of plenty. With a sob and a loud shout of relief, the intrepid explorer picked up his pace, spirits renewed. It was some days' walk yet, and he knew he only saw it with the help of his enchanted bifocals, but it was there. Eden was in the distance.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Another New World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691197
Comments: 30
Kudos: 93
Collections: Happy Birthday moveslikebucky!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It's Not The Years, It's The Mileage [no longer updating]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448057) by [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky). 



> Happy birthday Bucky, I hope it's a good one!

The soft _shhk-shhk_ of snake scales over dry sand was muffled by the torrid heat of the desert. It was the kind of Hellish heat that sucked the water out of men and bleached their bones, heavy and oppressive. 

There were creatures, some said, that lived in these deserts. Thrived in them, even. Aziraphale didn't normally pay much heed to tall tales, but the mirages of this place had put him on edge for days. He was hearing things just out of sight, seeing things that couldn't possibly exist in the distance, and now he saw what he had been searching for. Eden. 

The famed Garden of God, the paradise lost, the valley of plenty. With a sob and a loud shout of relief, the intrepid explorer picked up his pace, spirits renewed. It was some days' walk yet, and he knew he only saw it with the help of his enchanted bifocals, but it was there. Eden was in the distance. 

Aziraphale sighed despondently as the sun set. It would finally be temperate enough to make up for the heat of the day, but not for long. The desert was a harsh mistress that gave no quarter, neither day nor night was pleasant. One too hot and the other freezing, and Aziraphale was almost out of water. But Eden would save him, it would have to. He had no other options except for this new world he'd known he'd find if only he searched hard enough. He didn't have enough left of anything to make it back if he turned around now. 

He endured two more days of Hellish sun and desperately cold nights, bolstered by the promise of paradise. And upon waking on the second morning, he could no longer see Eden. He climbed to his knees, body sore and weary from shivering all night and walking all day for months as he searched. On his hands and knees Aziraphale shook. 

And he wept. 

His vision blurred though he could scarcely shed any tears for lack of water in his body, and the exhaustion of a failed journey, of becoming one more lost on the search of a mythical garden, kept him from hearing the _shhk-shhk_ of scales he had heard for days suddenly come to a stop. Much closer than he'd ever heard it before. 

He did notice the shadow cast over him, the sudden darkening of the sand around him, the complete absence of sunlight beating mercilessly down upon him. Aziraphale scrambled to his feet with a yelp, and nearly screamed when he saw what last before him. 

A massive creature with the face and body of a man, and from the waist down, that of a giant snake. A titanboa, perhaps. The belly scales were a bright carmine that disappeared into human-looking flesh, which was tanned to a burnished gold that matched the color of the feathery looking scales at the top of the creature's head. The rest of the body curled and shifted behind the creature, catching up to the rest, covered in scales the deepest shade of black Aziraphale had ever seen with his own eyes. Darker than a starless desert sky, than the voids between the stars. 

The historian's heart skipped a beat and he couldn't halt the reverent whisper of, "Naga," that fell from his lips. Perhaps he'd be embarrassed if he weren't so sure he'd be eaten. Or worse. 

"Human?" A voice raspy from disuse asked quietly, as if it weren't really a question, but a confirmation. 

The creature, the Naga, spoke with a lilting tenor, rich as delta soil and compelling as a siren song. 

"Yes," Aziraphale whispered, unable to stop himself. The Naga only nodded in response and turned to leave. Aziraphale stood and watched, dumbstruck, for a moment before stumbling forward. "Wait! Please, sir!" 

The naga paused and looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, who couldn’t help but notice the sinuous lines of serpentine body, the graceful curves that looked almost out of place in a desert so unforgiving. It was more than Aziraphale had hoped for, and he prayed desperately to anything that might listen to him that this snake creature was not a mirage as he feared. 

“P– please. Do you know where The Garden is?” Aziraphale stumbled in an attempt to follow after the naga, hand outstretched, his head filled with hazy desert air and his throat screaming for water, his body for shade, all of him for _respite_.

Dimly he realized he was falling. The form of the naga tilted sideways and his world went black, and Aziraphale knew no more.

* * *

Crowley didn’t know what to do. As far as he had been aware, he was the only sapient creature in this part of the world anymore. There used to be, a long time ago, humans who looked quite a bit different than this one, and there were still plenty of animals that lived in the Garden. So, he sighed and flicked his tongue in irritation but stooped to haul the human from where it had fallen in the sand. 

The human smelled good, at least, Crowley thought, letting his tongue flick out again to capture more of it’s scent and analyse it against the roof of his mouth. He also noticed that the human felt warm to the touch, and quickly Crowley came to the conclusion that the weight of it in his arms was soothing in a similar way to coiling around a large, perfectly shaped stone at the zenith of the day. Only, the human was softer than a rock, with just a hint of firmness beneath that. Briefly he wondered if he ought to eat it, but shook his head and let his hood flare out to shield the scaleless skin of his shoulders and neck from the direct sun.

There were better things to do than worry himself over eating the only thing he’d met, in who knows how long, that might be able to hold a conversation.

* * *

Aziraphale woke to strange sounds filtering through his foggy thoughts. The first coherent thought he managed to scrounge from the haze was the realization that he felt pleasantly cool. He could scarcely remember the last time he’d felt so comfortable. He relaxed into the sensation and slowly pulled together the last things he remembered. 

All at once, it hit him. The Naga! The desert! He shot up from where he lay, tripping as his limbs trembled with adrenaline. He wildly took in his surroundings, and fell to his knees in awe. 

“The Garden,” he whispered, voice choked with amazement. Everything was green, a shade of which he’d never seen, as far as his eyes could see. The smell was unlike anything he’d experienced as well and he could think of no other word to describe it other than  _ alive _ . It smelled green and living; all the sights and all the perfumes of the jungles he’d explored before had nothing on the sheer, breathtaking beauty surrounding him. Greens deeper than he could have thought possible, riots of colorful fruits and flowers, and carpets of the softest moss and grasses. 

Aziraphale knew in his heart that this was  _ Paradise. _

Behind him there was a pool of water, likely fed by the waterfall he could hear faintly in the distance. Upon closer inspection, as he crawled over to the clear water, he saw that it was deliberately dammed off with heavy-looking rocks so there was a gently swirling eddy of water collected there. It looked perfect for washing in, and perhaps he would have cared more about that if he wasn’t so thirsty. He plunged his hands into the crystal-clear water that seemed to soften even the glare of the sun and drank his fill, not caring that it spilled down his shirt and turned the desert sand that covered him into a sheen of mud across his front. The water was sweet and filling, and like a balm to his soul.

“You’re awake.” A soft voice murmured from behind him, surprising Aziraphale into toppling over onto his side, narrowly missing a dive into the pool. Which, even though it looked shallow enough to stand in, would have been rather embarrassing to thrash around in while he got his feet under him. Aziraphale turned and his eyes widened at the red and black creature before him with eyes of molten gold, and he was struck dumb with awe at the sight of it.

The Naga didn’t blink, of course, and neither did it come any closer, seeming content to stay where it was and watch. It tilted its head in such a human gesture of curiosity that Aziraphale couldn’t help the delighted, hysterical laugh that bubbled up from his stomach.

“I’m awake.” Aziraphale confirmed, shifting himself so he could sit properly instead of laying on his side like a dolt. “Thanks to you. I think.”

The Naga scowled at the thanks and turned its head to the side, crossing its arms over its chest. A forked tongue, long and thin, flicked out and the snake creature spoke. “You’re a fool for looking for The Garden. You never would have found it.” Its voice was deep and sharp, and reminded Aziraphale of the susurrus sounds of snake scales scraping over stone.

“I did.” Aziraphale pushed himself up to stand, his legs a little wobbly even now but he didn’t let it stop his stubbornness. “I knew it was here, I  _ found _ it!” He asserted, drawing his shoulders back before deflating. There was no need to posture here, or put on airs; this wasn’t Gabriel, this wasn’t a table filled with leading lights of the age that wondered what he would do next. The Naga only looked at him, unblinking and unimpressed with his bravado, though it gave him an odd sort of look that Aziraphale couldn’t decipher. 

“You did.” The creature replied after a short silence, nodding gracefully. “It was surprising. No one else has come so close, not so close that I found them, at least.” 

And wasn’t that a surprise, or surprising to Aziraphale. It also, sort of, made his heart pang with sadness unexpectedly, so that when he spoke again it was soft and mournful. “You mean, you’ve been alone this whole time?” Aziraphale asked, unsure if there was anything or anyone else around here. Surely the Garden was large enough for him not to have seen other creatures like the Naga, but he had the odd feeling that wasn’t the case.

Rather than reply, the Naga reared back in surprise. At the tone or the question, Aziraphale didn’t know, but he seemed to have offended it. The disappointment that welled in Aziraphale when the Naga turned and left, disappearing without another whisper into the verdant greenery, was surprising in its intensity.

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aziraphale explored the Garden. It was green and colorful, beautiful beyond even his imaginings. His hands itched for the field journal and his bag with his pens and paints so that he could document the wide array of plant life he was sure existed nowhere else in the world. The animals were all fascinating too! None of them were aggressive or skittish, and he sat with fawn and doe just as easily as he napped in the presence of lions. He never saw any of them eating, but they must, mustn't they?

He lived on whatever fruits and vegetables looked even a little familiar, roasting some over a small fire but otherwise unable to cook them. He supposed he might be able to kill a chicken or something similar, but the way all the creatures seemed to be so unafraid of him stayed his hand. That and he had no idea how he could cook it without any of his gear, knife included. Even so, he found that the drastic change in his diet hasn’t seemed to affect him at all, and that somehow all the bounty of the Garden was more nourishing than anything he’d ever had before.

Time in the garden passed strangely. Ineffably. It moved in fits and starts; at once slow as the sap sliding down one of the grand trees and quick as the dragonflies atop the water. He woke and he wandered and he ate and he slept and then he did it all again. Slowly, he realized that it was not  _ time _ , but moments and memories that mattered here.

* * *

Some days he didn’t see the Naga at all, and others he caught glimpses of him through the trees. Especially if he’d interacted with other creatures that day, speaking aloud so so as not to lose his voice through disuse. Aziraphale wondered if, perhaps, that’s what happened to the Naga. Capable of human speech—Aziraphale’s own language even!—but no one to speak it with. No matter how far Aziraphale searched, he saw no sign of more than the one Naga. Some nights, when he felt a little lonely, it troubled Aziraphale more than he thought he could bear.

After one such night, Aziraphale woke with a determination to speak with the Naga again. He didn’t even know if it had a name, to be truthful, or any sort of culture to speak of. And what did Naga eat? Did they have to sun themselves like snakes did or were they able to keep themselves warm like men? And, perhaps, the Naga might have his things, if he were being hopeful.

It took him nigh on four hours of tromping through jungle and forest biomes to catch sight of the Naga, even though he purposefully strayed closer to some of the gentler animals to see if it would draw the creature out. Luckily for Aziraphale, it worked. 

“Wait!” Aziraphale called, like he had many times before, once the Naga caught sight of him staring and turned to slip away. He hadn’t expected it to work, it hadn’t before, and so Aziraphale nearly slammed into the pillar of muscle that was the creature’s chest in his haste to keep up with him.

“Yesss?” The Naga asked, narrowing his eyes, though the lids were less like a human’s and more like a bird’s, cloudy but ultimately transparent. 

“What’s your name?” Aziraphale asked, angling his head to look up and meet the eyes of the creature, and entirely unable to contain the awe on his face at the terrifying beauty of it.

“My– my name?” The Naga repeated slowly, furrowing its brows. But it nodded and bent down to look Aziraphale in the eyes, and Aziraphale felt suddenly unable to do anything but listen and look, almost as if he’d been hypnotized.

“You may call me Crowley.” The Naga– Crowley murmured, voice low and rough in ways Aziraphale didn’t let himself think about. Surely only from disuse.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed before remembering his manners. “I– I’m Azira! Aziraphale Fell.” 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley repeated, tongue flickering out and causing Aziraphale to flinch in surprise when it tickled his cheek. Crowley only tilted his head and moved closer when it became obvious he was only startled and not afraid. The Naga slowly circled Aziraphale in a way that made the explorer feel like he was the one on display, as if he were the relic of ages past or the bug pinned in the corkboard. He was very,  _ very  _ aware of the massive coils that completely encircled his feet by the time Crowley had finished his inspection. 

Perhaps it was the getting used to walking safely beside predators, or sleeping unguarded for weeks with no incidents to speak of that made Aziraphale fearless, or perhaps it was the utter lack of malice or threat from the Naga. Perhaps it was simply the feeling that he’d been in a dream all this time that he’d lived in the Garden, too afraid to attempt to venture back home without any supplies.

Too afraid to leave and never be able to make it back.


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale jumped to reach for an apple from a tree in the center of the Garden. It was beautiful and the fruits themselves shone and glistened in the sun temptingly. There were no fruits easily accessible as they’d been eaten by all the things, presumably, that were Aziraphale’s size, and most things even further up had been eaten by climbing beasts. But Aziraphale spotted a treasure, an apple delicately red and perfectly shaped, just barely out of reach. There were no branches he could reach to climb up to it either, so he resorted to jumping, hoping to grab the apple or perhaps the branch it was on to pull it down.

Suddenly the branches shifted and the leaves rustled as great looping coils of onyx and pyrope scales, and hanging upside-down in front of Aziraphale’s face was Crowley. Aziraphale yelped and smacked him across the face in a mistimed and startled attempt at the apple, and fell flat on his back. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, clutching a hand to his chest before laughing at the look on Crowley’s face as he touched a clawed hand to his cheek. 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley hissed, a distressed sound, one that made it clear he was still startled. “Why did you attack me?”

“Oh! I didn’t mean to, my dear,” Aziraphale surged up to stand, hands raised and his smile sheepish. “You startled me, I was trying to get the apple, you see.”

“Yes. I saw.” Crowley let his coils unwind from the tree and fall to the ground as his torso stretched out, claws hooked around the branch with the very apple Aziraphale had been attempting to grab. The Naga plucked the apple with one hand and let go with the other so that he could let himself fall easily atop the rest of his serpentine body. “Did you want it?”

Aziraphale blinked dumbly for a moment before nodding. “I– yes, yes I do, my dear.” 

Crowley’s eyes narrowed again and his head tilted to the side as if to get a clearer look of Aziraphale before he took a bite of the apple, never turning his gaze from the man. “Why?”

“Why do I want it?” Aziraphale asked, confused.

“Yes.” Crowley nodded, slowly advancing on the man in a way that  _ ought _ to have made him feel like prey, but still didn’t for some reason.

“Because it looked good.” Aziraphale replied and then pouted, crossing his arms. “But you’ve already eaten it! It was the only one I might have been able to reach.”

“You couldn’t.” Crowley replied after a slight pause, before once more taking a turn around Aziraphale, from his right, around his back, and ending up on his left. Crowley was what Aziraphale would call ‘wrapped around him,’ if he were actually touching him. 

Every time Crowley lingered like this his beautiful scaled body trailed out from whence he came, slowly catching up to the rest of him. Each time Crowley circled him, the length of his human-looking body came close enough to feel the heat of, but  _ never touched  _ him. Aziraphale’s skin always prickled in response to the nearness of the creature. He hesitated to call it unpleasant, though it did make him feel some sort of wary, unsure what exactly made the Naga continue to surround him like this.

“Well, perhaps I  _ could have _ if someone hadn’t stolen it!” Aziraphale replied with a huff, unable to keep the slight smile off his face. He was immensely pleased that Crowley was willing to initiate conversation now, when before he had preferred to observe only.

“I didn’t steal it. It wasn’t yours. You couldn’t reach it.” Crowley pointed out, but mimicked Aziraphale’s smile with wobbly lips. Even though it looked more like a threat than a smile with the way Crowley bared his teeth, Aziraphale felt no unease as Crowley’s arm snaked around his side to hold the apple out in front of him. The single, large bite taken out of it revealed the inner flesh, stark white against the brilliant red of the skin and dripping sweet juice onto Crowley's hand. Aziraphale took the offering with a small, soft smile, letting his fingers brush Crowley's and linger just long enough to leave his fingers sticky too. 

“Thank you.”

“If you like.”

* * *

Crowley pulled Aziraphale up onto an overhang, it wasn’t very tall but it was quite unscalable if one was anything but a bird. Or Crowley, apparently. The cliff face was sheer enough that Aziraphale was honestly surprised there was anything for the Naga to climb up with, but perhaps it was a short enough journey that he could simply propel himself up with the length of his tail. Either way, being held on all sides by great, big coils of constricting muscles and scaley flesh was a discomfiting experience, even if he knew Crowley wouldn’t harm him.

Aziraphale shivered from a sudden cool breeze that blew across his skin. He was still dressed in the clothing he’d arrived in, which he had carefully been doing his best to preserve despite cleaning them in river water. It had been a boon when he’d arrived to be dressed for the desert, but now it seemed that summer was ending and the air was turning chill with the coming of winter. He doubted it would snow, but what he had now wasn’t going to be enough to keep him warm, especially if he had no animal furs available to line them with.

As soon as Aziraphale was seated atop the smooth stone overhang, Crowley loosened his grip on Aziraphale. As the pleasantly warm tail fell limp at his feet, Aziraphale couldn’t help the small, dissatisfied noise that escaped him. Instantly, Crowley swung around to look intently at Aziraphale, his clawed hands pressing gently as he drew close, searching for the source of Aziraphale's discomfort.

“You are not hurt?” Crowley asked sharply, a hiss in the back of his throat underlying the words. Aziraphale had noticed that the Naga was capable of hissing in the same way most cats were capable of purring, though Crowley was far more inclined to do it more as a sign of distress rather than one of pleasure. Though he had once caught Crowley napping on a large soapstone, hissing languidly in his sleep. That, Aziraphale had been sure, meant it was the equivalent of a purr.

“No, no dear chap, I’m fine.” Aziraphale smiled reassuringly and placed his hands on Crowley’s wrists. Though he took them back quickly when Crowley remained stiff and frozen, totally unresponsive to the gesture. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to alarm you!”

“It’sss fine.” Crowley replied and drew back just as quickly as he had invaded his space. It was comforting to Aziraphale, in a way; the lack of decorum that Crowley displayed, the ease with which the Naga would close the distance between them and touch Aziraphale. It was a far cry from how people behaved in England, where he was held to a certain unyielding standard, but here in the Garden it was simply another thing that seemed perfect to Aziraphale. He longed to be touched, and often he was able to convince himself that it was nothing more than a craving like his weakness for desserts, but other times he felt like a starving man, with nothing in sight with which to break his fast.

It dismayed him, of course, that Crowley seemed bothered to be touched back, that he froze and his gaze sharpened warily on Aziraphale, and how often he had fled after such instances. But Aziraphale would take what he could get, and be happy to have a friend as dear as Crowley was quickly becoming, no matter their differences in species. 

This time, instead of leaving, Crowley paused at a turn in the cave he’d brought Aziraphale to the entrance of. He extended his hand and offered it to the explorer, trembling so minutely Aziraphale might have missed it if he weren't watching so closely. The air between them felt heavy, and there was a long pause where neither moved. It took everything in Aziraphale to reach back out, feeling sure something had changed, somehow, when he wasn’t looking. Perhaps it had happened when he was looking, but he had simply missed it. Or a slow, secret change that wouldn’t show until later; like tulips and snowdrops—planted in the fall and dormant until the spring woke them once more.

“I haven’t–” Crowley began, voice low, almost like he didn’t want to be heard.

“Haven’t what, my dear?” Aziraphale asked gently, placing his hand in Crowley’s with no more hesitation in him. Crowley wouldn’t hurt him, not in another six thousand years.

“I haven’t brought anyone, anything, here.” Crowley murmured, turning away so his voice was nearly lost in the echo of the cave. The passage grew slimmer as he led Aziraphale down a gentle slope, into the depths of the cavern. The light dimmed as they went down, with only the occasional shaft of light brightening their path, but he was not afraid. He trusted Crowley to make sure he was safe, and safe he was; bracketed between the Naga’s side and the solid wall of stone. On Crowley’s other side he could hear the occasional pebble getting flicked off the path and falling for a long time before hitting anything at all; sometimes more stone, sometimes water, so distant he could not even hear the sound of it running. 

There must be an underground spring here, which Aziraphale thought likely to be the source of the two rivers that ran through Eden. The pair of them continued even further until, somehow, the cave was no longer chill and dark, but warm and lit by gently glowing moss. Aziraphale furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to ask a flurry of questions, but Crowley swept open a woven curtain of living vines at that very moment, and the sudden wash of heat and flood of light took Aziraphale's breath. The sun was bright overhead and shining through great leaves as large as Aziraphale himself, like the megaflora that had grown during the Age of Reptiles. 

Aziraphale froze, his mouth open in awe at the green-tinted sun and the beauty of the place. How could the sun reach here? He could have sworn they went down more than they had angled upwards, but somehow, Crowley had found a hidden paradise within Paradise itself. Soothing smells of flowers and herbs and unknown flora buffeted him, and the humidity in the air felt almost divine even after weeks of being out of the desert proper.

“An underground hot spring!” Aziraphale exclaimed happily, his cheeks rosy from the warmth rather than the oncoming cold for the first time in days/weeks. He stepped forward and almost fell backwards when Crowley held his hand fast. Tossing a concerned look over his shoulder, Aziraphale turned back and placed gentle fingertips on Crowley’s side, angling his head to catch the Naga’s eyes, which were downcast. In embarrassment?

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked carefully, letting his fingers rub soothingly along the line of scales on Crowley’s side, where a man’s hip might be, and squeezed Crowley’s hand in his. “Crowley, are you alright? Is it– is it alright for me to be here?”

Crowley nodded jerkily and let go of Aziraphale’s hand to dart forward soundlessly. Aziraphale followed after him and waited patiently. Crowley was an anxious creature, Aziraphale had noticed early on. He second-guessed himself and most things he said, and often seemed to be ashamed of his hissing when he became excited or emotional in some way. But, given enough space, Crowley would eventually say what was on his mind.

“Yess, it’sss fine.” Crowley hissed once they reached a large rock pool, filled with steaming water that swirled lazily with unseen currents. Vaguely, Aziraphale thought this must be what the pool of water near his own little camp was meant to mimic, though it was nowhere near as warm.

“Thiss iss,” Crowley paused mid-sentence, clearly putting his words together with a certain determination. “Thisss isss where I sssleep.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale smiled, “Because it's warm here?” Crowley hesitated for a moment before nodding. The Naga raised an arm and pointed towards a large stone in the center of the basin getting direct sunlight, the only place that was not covered by brobdingnagian greenery. 

“Sss my nessst.” Crowley hissed, still not looking at Aziraphale, who was immediately intrigued by the thought. That’s where Crowley slept? Even if it rained or was cold at night? Not that it had yet been a truly uncomfortable temperature for Aziraphale, but he was used to England and its blustery weather, and surely Crowley was cold blooded. Wasn’t he? It seemed a bit rude to ask.

But he couldn’t quite overcome the temptation to go investigate it, so he walked over. If Crowley didn’t want him near the nest, he’d say so. But Crowley had brought him here in the first place, so Aziraphale doubted Crowley's nest would be off-limits. 

He wandered in a loose circle around the large stone, picking up the occasional shiny rock or interestingly shaped piece of wood. Some of which were etched with clumsy, clawed, renderings of constellations that Aziraphale would bet were visible from Crowley’s nest. He hadn’t expected the Naga to be such a magpie, but it was oddly charming and wildly endearing. 

A few moments into his exploration of the area, he was almost tripped by Crowley’s tail as it slithered up on top of the rock to curl underneath Crowley’s crossed arms like a pillow to support his weight as the creature watched him with curious eyes. Aziraphale laughed under his breath and smiled widely up at Crowley. He looked down and finished his circuit of the stone and then gasped.

“My bag,” he whispered reverently, hands shaking as he dove for the satchel bag containing his books and field journal and his paints and charcoal. “My bag!” Aziraphale shouted, overjoyed to realize he had not lost it.

“You found it! My dear boy, I cannot thank you enough.” Aziraphale whirled around, only to yelp as Crowley’s face was less than a few inches from his own, their noses almost touching. 

“Thank me?” Crowley asked, head tilting in confusion. “For what?”

“These are mine, I arrived with them.” Aziraphale pulled open the flap on top after unbuttoning it and pulled out two journals, two he always kept on him. Or, at least, the latest volume of them. One for flora and one for fauna he found interesting in addition to the standard journal he kept for every adventure and exploration. Flicking the fauna journal open, he pointed out a penguin, something he was  _ sure _ Eden couldn’t possibly have.

“Look! This is a king penguin, I saw one far down South, in Antarctica! They waddle when they walk but are beautiful swimmers when you can see them. The water they’re in is so cold it freezes and giant ice floes float atop the sea! It’s treacherous water to sail through, but lovely and worth it to see all these creatures.” Crowley leaned in further to see all the things Aziraphale was pointing at on the page. Notes on the animal Aziraphale was reading off as well as the sketch colored in with water paints.

“A penguin?” Crowley narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think they exist. You’re making it up, what kind of bird flies underwater! It must be a fish.” 

Aziraphale laughed and turned the page to a leopard seal. “There are so many things that swim for their food and aren’t fishes!” They spent quite a few hours looking at all the things Aziraphale had drawn in his books, first the animals and then the plants and flowers, a few of which Crowley hissed excitedly about wanting to bring up here to plant, having never seen them before.

Over the course of those hours, Crowley slowly leaned closer and closer to Aziraphale until the weight of his upper body was leaned against the explorer’s shoulders, obliging Aziraphale to sit. Instead of letting Aziraphale grow comfortable on the ground, Crowley pulled him up onto the rock. It was exceedingly pleasant and warm to sit on, even as the night air began to grow just a little colder, especially when Crowley wrapped his massive coils around Aziraphale until they were both comfortable. 

Well, Crowley was surely comfortable, and Aziraphale wasn’t about to complain. Not with the enjoyable weight of Crowley’s arms wrapped around his middle, and his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Even if that chin was a bit pointy, and at times the hissing grew loud. Like when he had to explain to Crowley that a plant he liked was exclusive to England’s selective breeding, or garden shows, and was unlikely to naturally occur in the wild or even in Eden.

Winter came and went, seemingly in the blink of an eye, while Aziraphale reacquainted himself with his books and journals. He read his favorite stories aloud to Crowley, and filled both journals with paintings of all the amazing new plants he’d seen and all the familiar animals he’d never gotten so close to before. Crowley occasionally offered blooms or leaves for Aziraphale to study, if he ventured out to gather food for the two of them, and even more frequently provided Aziraphale with some information he had not yet known. 

Once, he even offered to bring one of the plants he’d called ugly earlier up to their sanctuary to keep in his personal garden, just because Aziraphale was so enraptured with it. Aziraphale denied the offer with a laugh and Crowley looked far too relieved, his lips pulling up into a serpentine smile that made Aziraphale's heart feel rather overfull.

**Author's Note:**

> Some inspiration, such as for the title and a small handful of lines from [Another New World by The Punch Brothers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ooqsxtdGS0).
> 
> And special thanks to amserpand (on both [Tumblr](https://amserpand.tumblr.com/) and [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/amserpand/)!!) for a large part of the nagaCrowley design I describe in this fic with the feathery scales rather than hair. 
> 
> They don't have nagaCrowley sketches up but I think they might be planning on putting them up at some point in the future. Either way, amazing artist that deserves a follow!!


End file.
